


Not Our Mother

by SilhouetteofScribe



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Incest, Roleplay, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 08:10:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7837060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilhouetteofScribe/pseuds/SilhouetteofScribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the beginning BellatrixObsessed1 wrote a Sinful Sundays drabble. Then everything changed when SilhouetteofScribe wrote a continuation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Our Mother

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Mother](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/223099) by BellatrixObsessed1. 



_ She looks like their mother when she ties her hair up like that. She looks like their mother when she paints her lips in just that shade. She looks like her mother and he realizes that he can’t quite resist that. Zuko notices these things in the faintest glimpses. And he wonders what they mean. He wonders just how like their mother Azula truly is. And in some ways it makes him uncomfortable. When his hand brushes hers…when their lips meet, a part of him tenses and cringes. Because sometimes when she wears her hair a certain way, cloths her body in certain outfits, does her makeup in certain shades, he could swear he’s kissing his mother. _

_ He crossed a lot of boundaries already, just by being with Azula. The only reason he got away with it was through claims of wishing to keep the bloodline pure. But just the idea of being with his mother was sickening to him. _

_ Sickening enough that when Azula particularly resembled their mother he would push her away and keep her at arm’s length until she started to look less like Ursa and more like Azula again. And it hurt him in the worst way to see her look so hurt…and then eventually angry with him for casting her aside with no apparent cause. She never did handle rejection well and would usually put her walls up in return—not speaking to him for days or a little over a week even after he came back to her. _

_ At first Azula had placed a lot of it on herself, wondering what she had done to him to make him so angry. What she had done to earn his cold shoulder. She had asked him why he would push her away. Zuko couldn’t bring himself to vocalize the embarrassing truth. So eventually Azula shifted the blame to where it belonged. _

_ With him. _

_ He deserved it, he knew. He’d much rather see her mad at him than frustrated with herself for no reason.  It hurt to see her berating herself. And it killed him to know that he had been too much of a wimp to tell her the truth. But how does one even go about confessing the type of discomfort he had. _

_ What seemed to make matters worse was that there were times when she’d act more like her mother than she realized, than she ever wanted to especially given their history. The way Azula would comfort and encourage him in particular reminded him of their mother. How she would tell him that Ozai’s opinions no logger mattered and questioned if they ever should have. _

_ How could he possibly tell her so? Without a doubt the princess would be less than thrilled to hear that she was like Ursa. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. Zuko hunched over pressing his elbows to the desktop and his palms to his eyes. What a frustrating situation. He looked up at Azula who brushed right past him, it had been three days since he had pushed her way and three more since she decided she still wasn’t going to talk to him when he decided his discomfort was gone. _

_ He was going to lose Azula. And because he couldn’t seem to separate she and their mother. He bit the inside of his lip. He was going to tell her. Even if the revelation made her angrier than secrets. At least he could say he tried. _

_ At least if he only earned her scorn for it, he’d clearly be able to separate Azula from Ursa. _

 

\---

 

For Azula, everything was fire. Everything burned. Her blue fires of exact rage. Her fury at Ty Lee’s idiocy. Her nights with Zuko when wrong became right. Her boiling showers at midnight when she scoured herself until her shoulders bled. But nothing felt like the hot tears on her cheeks as he admitted his fears. He looked smaller as the reinstated Prince Zuko stumbled over his awkward confession, trembling just beyond imperceptibly as he tripped over the word “mother”. He was silent after he said it, holding his breath beneath her gaze. He hadn’t looked up yet, the weight of his shame keeping his eyes on the royal flatweave.

She raised her hand up to her mouth, feeling the burning tears rolling down and dripping onto her wrist. When they fell onto her brother’s hair, he looked up. Azula felt ashamed. After their many frenzied nights of twisted passion, she had never felt more naked than at this moment, with Zuko’s eyes on her. She faltered, taking more than one choked attempt at communication. “You... y - you think . . . that I’m like mother?”

Azula could feel her temperature rising. Her lungs felt full of steam. She was positive she was blushing, maybe from her forehead to her breast. And at that moment, she saw herself through Zuko’s eyes. She had Ursa’s hair. She was tall and fair like the former Fire Lady. They shared the same eyes and lips. Maybe Zuko was right. Maybe Azula was Ursa’s daughter after all.

“Do you... think I’m like mother?” Azula asked again, feeling a smile lifting up inside of her. The smile, once pure and soothing, now incinerated into white embers as she looked at the guilt in Zuko’s eyes. He took a slight movement, backing away on the ground. He lowered in his kneeling stance, putting an arm behind him. But her brother wouldn’t retreat so easily this time. She gave her sweetest smile to her brother. “Zuko...” she affected in a velvet voice. “Zuko...please my love listen to me.” She could see his hesitation. His arms froze. His mouth hung open. She lowered herself over him, draping down on her brother’s shoulders in a motherly hold. He tremored in her arms. She whispered now, keeping her voice between them in the night. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done to protect you.”

She recalled her mother. The way Ursa moved. The way she held her poise. Her manner of speech. Above all, Azula remembered the way she spoke to Zuko. It was warm and kind. The words were always exactly what she’d want to be told. Now she brought them back, ghosts from her desperate memories. She placed her dreams before Zuko, lifting them out of time as gifts to her brother: “Remember this, Zuko. No matter how things seem to change, never forget who you are.”

Then she bit him. It drew blood. With her brother’s hot red on her lips, she smiled just as sweet. “You’re someone who doesn’t want to admit he wants his mommy.”

Zuko didn’t move. Azula felt their breath mingling between them. A storm of battling heat. She felt it moving beneath her weight. It moved outward, swelling slowly. Then it boldly expanded under her matronly smile. When it was fully engorged, she leaned down and kissed him. It was a gentle peck on the forehead, a peck his mother would give to reassure her boy. But from Azula it was an invitation. “I won’t judge you if you don’t judge me,” Azula’s silent kiss said. And then she helped him up and led him into the palace chambers.

 

\---

 

It was colder in here. The Queen’s chambers hadn’t been occupied in many years. It was more of a shrine inside, the gold and red walls now dulled with age and dust. So they stepped quietly into the past together, lit only by the tiny flicker at Azula’s palm and the burning for one another.

She stepped to the dresser, floating through the darkness like a forbidden spectre, a manifestation of something her brother had only recently let himself see. And as she pulled the robe out from the hanging clothes, she could see Zuko’s dimly illuminated features softening. He hung onto her shoulders with a gentle urgency. She felt the same painful need in his touch. When Zuko pulled the armor off of her, she saw a bit of herself in his eyes. But she didn’t dare break character. She dried Zuko’s tear with a tap of her fingertip and brought it to her lips. She drank it in with a desperation they shared and felt in filling something inside of her. Azula stood straighter. She let Zuko come to her.

He disrobed her with shaking hands, taking away the last trappings of Azula and pulling Ursa over her. The robe hung open, leaving a sliver between the illusion and truth. Beneath the disguise of her mother, Azula’s heart hammered louder than an army of drunken and furious earthbenders. Zuko placed the chain circlet down on her forehead and then, seeming to just now notice, pulled his arms out from encircling the visage of his mother. Azula resisted the urge to rip them back into place around her. Instead she gave an encouraging smile. “No,” she encouraged. “I loved how you did that.” She saw the nervous smile on her brother. “That’s who you are, Zuko. Someone who -” But now he was on her lips. It was easy to lose track of time in the fantasy, but feeling his arms seizing her now, it was unmistakable that Zuko wasn’t the boy who needed encouragement anymore. He was a man now. And he was holding her so tightly it forced her breath out of her lungs. She felt the muscles in his arms covering her shoulders. If she had tried to get away, he’d be too powerful to break free from. But in his embrace, Azula had nowhere else to be. She melted into his kiss. The cold fury of Azula fizzed out.

Holding her shoulders back and jawline firm, she let Zuko move into the kiss. She reciprocated primly, letting his passion guide the embrace. One of her hands touched his gently, bonding with Zuko as he gave in to something desperate and undeniable. As Zuko lost himself more in the moment and explored his mother’s neck with hot kisses, Azula tempered her lust into a controlled elegance. She was every inch her mother now, and she stroked Zuko’s hair with a gentle sweep of lace fingernails. He kissed higher, moving just under her jawline. Then he was back at her lips, he pulled her in roughly. Azula tried to resist, but her hands got batted away. Now Zuko had her by the wrists. He pushed her back, and she stumbled into the bed. Her mother’s robe was open now. Zuko loomed over her, looking down at her with a mix of disgust and fascination at the two halves she presented to him.

She had seen Zuko furious several times. It was always a fun way to pass the time. She knew how to push his buttons. The way he was regarding her now was that familiar hate and disgust. The way he looked at her after she had mocked his desire for her until it broke him down. Sex when Zuko was so thoroughly filled with cruel black malice was always her most treasured moments. But this had something new in it. He had looked into his mother and seen her once more. It was clearer now to him, obviously. Despite her best attempt at the role, Zuko had looked through his mother and once more found his bratty little sister within. So she couldn’t help but laugh at his frustration. The hatred curdled on his face.

“Enough Azula,” he warned. “You’ve gone way over the line here. We have got to end this right now, you’re desecrating something important to me right now.”

Azula grinned harder. She felt the last bit of his dried blood flake off of her cheek. She stretched Ursa’s robe open wider, letting the fabric rip from her shoulder and beneath her hip. “What are you going to do about it,” she dared, feeling the room’s heat build, “ZUZU?”


End file.
